


Best Laid Plans

by sarahyyy



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Valentine's Day, dumb boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/pseuds/sarahyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you want us to celebrate Valentine’s Day?” Enjolras asks.</p><p><i>Yes</i>. “No,” Grantaire says, and hopes it doesn't come out screaming <i>LIES LIES LIES</i>, because this whole night has been a clusterfuck of embarrassment, but he would still like to maintain a little bit of dignity, thank you very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> [courfeylicious](http://courfeylicious.tumblr.com/) prompted e/R Valentine's date, with one of the boys trying to escape. Thank you for the prompt, it was so much fun to write. :D

Grantaire manages the sitting in awkward silence and pushing his food around his plate for about fifteen minutes before he starts to cracks and excuses himself to the washroom. 

He’s always loved Valentine’s Day, and maybe admitting it to Courfeyrac was his biggest mistake, because he doesn’t need anyone to _coerce_ Enjolras into celebrating Valentine’s Day with him, Jesus Christ. Grantaire gets that they aren't really dating, gets that it’s supposed to be just casual between them, but it _hurts_. Watching Enjolras scowl at his food and the candles and the rose petals like they personally offended him _hurts_. Watching Enjolras look like he would give anything to be anywhere but here locked up in Courfeyrac’s apartment with Grantaire _hurts_.

Enjolras doesn’t want this.

And Grantaire doesn’t want Enjolras like this.

He takes a deep breath and considers his options. He could sit through dinner quietly, and then get himself really drunk while Enjolras does whatever it is he wants to do. He could talk to Enjolras about this _thing_ between them, and how it’s driving him mad, maybe they shouldn’t do it anymore, and then beg Bahorel to come and rescue him. Or.

 _Or_.

Or he could escape through the bathroom window. It’s probably going to be a tight fit, and he’s going to be bruised in so many places if he does it, but he could probably manage it. What’s the worst thing that could happen? If he escapes, he escapes, A+ for determination to him, and if he injures himself climbing out the window, well, he won’t have to sit through this night with Enjolras.

See? He doesn’t lose either way, it’s a brilliant plan.

He’s only just managed to work out the logistics of his whole escape plan and get himself up on the toilet seat so he can reach the window when the bathroom door opens. 

“Jesus, R,” Enjolras says, “what the hell are you doing?”

Crap, he did not think this through.

Grantaire stares at him, and really don’t know what to say. “Uh.”

“Are you—” Enjolras makes a face. Grantaire cannot tell if it’s a _God, I am so done with you_ face or if it’s a _why didn’t I think of that first?_ face. “Are you trying to climb out from the window?” 

The incredulity in his voice is amazing, Grantaire hates how much he doesn’t hate it.

“Uh,” Grantaire says, “maybe?”

“You do know that we’re six floors up, right?” Enjolras asks, and oops, Grantaire really hadn’t thought about that. “God, get down here before you hurt yourself.”

Grantaire briefly considers throwing himself out of the window anyway, because nope, he does not want to have to explain this to Enjolras, but he stops himself because Enjolras’ scowl is of epic proportions, and given Grantaire’s recent luck, he’s most likely to survive the six—storey fall just so Enjolras would have a chance to yell at him. 

He gets down from the toilet seat.

“Look— I’m sorry,” he tells Enjolras, “you probably had better plans for tonight, Courfeyrac is an idiot. I was trying to—” He doesn’t think telling Enjolras that he was planning to escape from this disaster of a Valentine’s Day because he’s a bit in love with Enjolras, who doesn’t really reciprocate, is a good idea. “Never mind. We can go back to ignoring each other and eating dinner, it’s okay.”

Enjolras is still frowning when Grantaire finishes, which is a bad sign.

“I don’t want us to ignore each other. I like spending time with you,” Enjolras tells him. 

Which. God, is Enjolras lying to him? He’s the worst liar. He’s spent more time tonight looking like he’d rather dance around the street naked than be around Grantaire. 

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Grantaire tells him, ignoring the pang in his heart. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t like spending time with me, either. You don’t have to— Whatever.”

“Did you want us to celebrate Valentine’s Day?” Enjolras asks.

 _Yes_. “No,” Grantaire lies, and hopes it comes out screaming _LIES LIES LIES_ , because this whole night has been a clusterfuck, but he would still like to maintain a little bit of dignity.

He isn’t prepared for the way Enjolras’ face falls.

“We didn’t really discuss it,” Enjolras tells him. “You never mentioned it and I didn’t know how to ask you. So I spoke to Courfeyrac.”

Grantaire blinks. “…okay?”

“I asked him to set this up,” Enjolras admits, sighing. “I wanted— But you looked so unhappy about the whole thing, and it started to occur to me that you mightn’t have wanted to celebrate Valentine’s with me at all.”

Grantaire blinks some more. “What.”

“You don’t actually have to stay here,” he tells Grantaire, and he looks— He looks _sad_. “Courf gave me a key, for emergencies. You can leave. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“What the fuck?” Grantaire says, because he cannot process the information that’s going through his brain right now, everything’s stuck in a loop of _what the fuck_. “You’re saying— You’re telling me that you wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day with me.”

Enjolras nods. “Is that okay?” he asks, hesitant. 

“Is that okay?” Grantaire echoes, Christ. “Yes, I guess—”

“I don’t want you to guess anything,” Enjolras tells him. “If you don’t like celebrating Valentine’s Day, you let me know, if you want me to bring you flowers and chocolates, you let me know too. I’m not good at this relationship stuff—”

Grantaire chokes on air. “Wait, _what_? ”

Enjolras stares at him. “What?”

Grantaire is back to not having words to say. Are they in a relationship? Christ. What constitutes as a relationship? _Are they in a relationship?_

He sneaks a peek at the window to his right. He could still dive out of it, if he really wanted to.

“R?” Enjolras says, frowning slightly now. “Are we not in a relationship?”

“I don’t know,” Grantaire says truthfully. “You tell me.”

“I don’t want to be the person deciding if we’re in a relationship,” Enjolras says, and he’s stepping closer, taking Grantaire’s hand, and Grantaire doesn’t know how to work his lungs anymore. “This concerns the both of us, it’s a decision we have to make together. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says shakily.

“Good, I’ll start,” Enjolras tells him. “I love you, and I would like you to be my boyfriend. Your turn.” 

It takes Grantaire a moment of blinking stupidly at Enjolras — _I love you_ , he just said _I love you_ , did he just say that, oh my God— to work out a reply. “I think you’re a dumbass, and if you haven’t figured out by now that I’m more than a little bit in love with you, you’re an even bigger dumbass than I thought.”

The corners of Enjolras’ lips twitch. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask me a question, technically,” Grantaire tells him. 

“ _Grantaire_.”

Grantaire just grins at him, cheeky. 

Enjolras huffs. “Will you be my boyfriend, you idiot?”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Grantaire says, and ducks in to steal a kiss, “but you’re lucky I already like you. Yes, yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Enjolras kisses him.

“Courfeyrac is going to be so smug tomorrow,” Grantaire breathes when they pull apart. 

“I could stop kissing you,” Enjolras suggests, lips curved up in a wicked smirk, and grinds their hips together. 

“You know what?” Grantaire gasps out. “I really, _really_ don’t care about Courfeyrac right now.”

Enjolras laughs and tugs him in closer. “That’s what I thought.”

See? Grantaire’s plans always work out.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, come say hi! :D


End file.
